


Passage

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-10
Updated: 2004-09-10
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11335512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A time together.





	Passage

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Passage

### Passage

#### by Marcia Elena

  


Title: Passage 

Author: Marcia Elena 

Email: 

Keywords: M/K, slash, post-colonization. Mulder POV. 

Summary: A time together. Prequel to Travelling. 

Written for the 17th Lyric Wheel, the 'War For the World Wheel', July/August 2004. 

Rating: NC-17 

Warning: Depressing story ahead. Character death. 

Spoilers: Hmm... maybe? In this universe things most likely veer off from canon right after RatB, so this would be a while after that. An indefinite while. 

Disclaimer: Not mine -- only each other's, forever. 

Author's Notes: I think it's settled -- I can never deliver a story on time. Maybe that has to do with the fact that I only start writing once the deadline is past, LOL. Anyway, thank you to Esse for the great lyrics; they just begged for this story. But don't blame her for how gloomy it is. 

* * *

Passage  
by Marcia Elena 

There's a restless feeling in me tonight. The festivities here at Home, subdued as they are, are too loud for me. Soft music weaves its spell on couples as they dance, celebrating a birth, the soulful notes plucked from the strings of cello and mandolin plucking at the strings of my heart as well, awakening shadows in it. The torches set far apart from each other on the cave walls do a poor job of illuminating the vast spaces of our underground complex, making it appear as if Time is mired in eternal twilight. 

Seeking some distance from the others, needing silence, I climb the roughly carved stone steps to the highest point in the cave, an aerie that stands high above the desert. There's an opening in the rock face up there, spanning the upper side of the wall and part of the ceiling, allowing a good view of land and sky. It's a spot I visit often, mostly because none of the others seem interested in it; I can always count on it being empty. The torch I carry with me licks the walls with trembling tongues of light as I make my long way up, the ancient drawings on the rock leaping at me from the darkness, horses and bulls and spirals, and curious faces that look more alien than human and never fail to run a shiver through me. For a brief instant, I wonder if years from now there'll be anyone left to contemplate the signs of our passage though history. For an even briefer instant, I wonder if history hasn't ended already. 

The evening is deepening when I finally reach the top, and I extinguish the torch before placing it on its holder on the wall, not wanting to alert Them to our presence here. My eyes immediately wander to the distant flicker of flames on the horizon, growing brighter as the night grows darker. I pull my gaze away from it, trying not to visualize the crumbling buildings, trying not to name the blazing city in my mind. The only power names have now is that of conjuring ghosts: of people, of places. And place names have lost all meaning, because all the places are gone, crushed to the ground by the weight of Their giant ships, by the power of Their weapons. They have no need for human cities or human technology, no need for humans at all aside from the ones They've already enslaved. It's becoming apparent that the best resistance we can offer is our survival. We are a dying people, suitably driven to seek shelter in this netherworld of dusk. 

The rest of the world isn't ours anymore. 

And it's burning. 

Alex's deliberately loud footfalls distract me from my grim musings, and I feel myself relaxing in anticipation of his embrace. Only the enemy will steal up on us in complete silence now, and Alex isn't my enemy anymore. He was never really my enemy, but it took me a long time to recognize that. 

I feel his arm go around me, and I lean back against him, relaxing further. The cool night air strokes my face, Alex's breath warm and familiar against my neck, his heart beating strong and steady against my back, forever chasing mine. 

We look at the star-strewn sky in silence, the orange glow on the horizon drawing my eyes again and again, beautiful. Terrible. But it's safe to look now, because Alex is with me. When he touches me, nothing else can. 

And still. 

"The world is on fire," I whisper with a shudder. 

"You're in my arms," Alex counters, and I feel his breathed half laugh reverberate through me. "Arm," he corrects himself, only the slightest touch of sadness in his voice. 

It's always this way with us, me focusing on the sorrows, him pointing out the joys. It surprised me at first, how intensely pragmatic Alex is, yet still somehow finding strength and beauty wherever he can. It's a source of comfort now, to me. His strength. His beauty. Constantly healing the open wounds in me, hushing my despair. 

"Had enough?" he asks me at length, a shudder of another kind coursing through me when he insinuates his hand under my shirt, the brush of his fingers against my skin pulling a sigh out of me. 

I turn around and wrap him in my arms, taking his mouth with mine, kissing him slowly, deeply, backing him against the wall. He moans when I press my hips against his, and I smile against his lips. "Never enough," I whisper, kissing him again, harder, arousal flaring between us. 

"Good," he rasps, smiling as well, kissing me back. His hand is still under my shirt, stroking and kneading my back, his teeth trailing bites along my jaw, and I am the one who moans this time. Then, "Mulder," he breathes in my ear, and in that one word lie all my questions, answered; all my doubts, assuaged. All my wishes come true. The world still alive in the tone of his voice, the caress of his hand, the cadence of his heart. 

I kiss his lips again, my throat feeling suddenly tight, tenderness rushing through me and leaving me breathless. Pulling back, I reach for the torch I brought and set it aflame again. The sudden illumination bathes Alex in a wavering circle of warmth, shadow and light dancing on the walls, lapping at him. But when my eyes meet his, I find no hesitation there -- the fire in his gaze is steady and bright. With a pang of regret I remember how for so long I mistook that fire for anger and scorn. But no longer. 

I know the truth now. 

I raise my hand to his face and stroke him, watching his lips part in an inaudible breath, the brush of his stubble against my fingertips stirring unnameable emotions within me and bringing tears to my eyes. I swallow, blinking hard as he takes my hand in his and kisses my fingers. When he releases me I turn and head for the stairs, listening as he follows close behind me, his pace perfectly matched to mine. Always watching my back. 

Our descent is as slow as my way up was, and just as silent. With a smile I think about the first time Alex found me at the aerie, my utter dismay when I saw he'd come looking for me without a torch. But he'd only shrugged and said, "I can see well enough in the dark." I didn't doubt him. 

Back in the main hall, I place the torch in an empty holder and turn to face Alex once again. Music is still playing, people still dancing. He steps closer to me and slides his arm around me, kissing my neck, my ear. 

"Care to dance?" he whispers, pulling back slightly and looking at me, his gaze expectant. 

But I shake my head at him, threading my fingers in his now longish hair and fusing my mouth to his, my pulse racing as I kiss him, holding him to me with hands and breath and need. 

"Another time," I murmur, and feel him acquiesce, his body seeming to melt into mine, both of us sinking deeper into our kiss. 

He takes my hand and guides me through twisting galleries to the small corner we call ours. We undress each other without a word, his gestures measured where mine are frantic, both our breaths loud and shallow. He lowers me onto our thin mattress with such care that the worn sheets beneath me feel like silk, like rose petals. He kisses my lips, my chin, my chest, his fingers trailing sparks over my skin, his tongue probing at my nipples, tracing a path down to my stomach, licking a circle around my navel. He closes his mouth around my rigid cock and I gasp, arching my back, spreading my legs, my hips moving with a will of their own, his hair tickling me where it falls against my body. 

"Alex," I moan, thrusting deeper into his mouth even as I tug on his hair, trying to pull him off my cock, wanting to feel him against me, needing him inside me. He sucks me fiercely for a moment, humming around my cock and rasping his tongue against the throbbing vein on the underside, making me swell painfully in his mouth, tearing a sob from me. "Please," I beg, reaching blindly for the small container of lubricant that we keep beside the mattress and only use sparingly. I dip my fingers in it and close my hand around his cock when he moves back up my body and kisses me, drinking in the sounds he makes as I fist him while I slick him up. 

"Do it," he rasps, and I feel his body shake above mine as I guide him to my entrance. I grab his asscheeks with both my hands and pull him roughly to me while he pushes in, the friction of flesh against flesh as he forces his way inside me flushing my entire being with heat and making me dizzy with sensation. 

We moan together then, move and burn together, my hands exploring his body while his tongue explores my mouth, his cock stroking in and out of me and creating more heat, waves of fiery pleasure consuming us both. His teeth dig into my lower lip, his next thrust finding that place inside me that no one but him has ever touched; I buck under him as orgasm bursts and roils through me, everything I am weeping, offering him my come and sweat and tears. Alex's rhythm becomes erratic, and he presses his face against the crook of my neck and shouts incoherently, filling me with life, giving himself up to me. 

I hold him quietly for a long time afterwards, lazily stroking his hair, his back, my eyes closed as he anoints my face with his lips. A kiss for every hurt we ever caused each other, something in me whispers. I tighten my arms around him, tears welling unexpectedly in my eyes, rolling down the sides of my face. 

"Don't cry," he whispers, kissing my mouth. "Don't you cry tonight. No sadness, Mulder. No nightmares?" he prompts me, smiling softly, his movements catlike as he rubs his cheek against my hand while I stroke him. "Just this." 

I can't help but smile back. "Just this," I echo. 

Later, when we sleep, there are no dreams. 

There's only the music, winding long into the night. And Alex, warm and beautiful in my arms. 

* * *

The commotion we find in the mess hall in the morning is not the usual breakfast din. Every chair in the place is empty, some overturned. Cups of coffee steam untouched and food sits half eaten on the plates while men and women cluster around their unit leaders. Orders are shouted over the melee while weapons and ammunition are distributed, armed units hurrying past us as we cut a path towards the hastily improvised tactical center. 

"What's the situation?" Alex asks without preamble, accepting a gun from the weapons officer in charge and handing it to me, grabbing another one for himself. 

"Perimeter alert sounded ten minutes ago. We're sending people out as fast as we can, but it might not be fast enough," the weapons officer tells us nervously. Alex looks at me as the man goes on speaking, and I tuck my loaded gun into my waistband and help him load his. "All civilians are being evacuated to the lower levels, and we have men standing by, ready to seal every entrance with the exception of the escape route in case there's need." 

"There won't be need," Alex assures him, looking at me again, his voice razor-sharp, determination in his eyes. 

I nod at him, and thirty seconds later we're joining a unit and racing out of the caves. The brightness outside is blinding, disorienting for a moment. Time rushes forward, freed from its gloomy prison, and everything moves fast, so fast, faster, bullets whizzing by like angry bees, gunpowder and cordite stinging the air, adrenaline pumping through me and my feet pounding the ground and- 

And time runs out. 

Before I realize what's happening I'm being shoved down, and someone is firing close to my ear, falling against me. The grunt of pain I hear is so familiar it makes my heart skip a beat. 

Alex. 

Always watching my back. 

I turn to fire with him, straining to cradle him against me at the same time, not sure yet about how badly he's hurt. His blood soaks my arm, my chest, warm and slippery, so much of it, my eyes stinging and fear clutching at me as I fire over and over, only peripherally aware that the others are firing with me, each shot eerily muted through the silencers in our guns. 

As abruptly as it began, the fighting is over. Everything is so quiet; and in the calm of the morning desert, my terror and grief are deafening. 

"Alex?" I croak, shaking as I hold him in my lap, trying to staunch his bleeding, refusing to acknowledge the hopelessness of it. The anguish etched in his face pierces through me, and I sob his name this time. "Alex." 

"Fox," he exhales. Saying my name with his last breath. 

Through the blur of my tears, I watch the fire in his eyes dim and die. I want to follow, run and bring him back to me, save him from Death's grasp. Or, failing that, match my pace to his and let him guide the way this time as we both step into darkness together. 

But he's gone. He's gone, and I can't. The sun blazes down on us, the wind stirs his hair, and Alex is still, growing cold, and all the music in me is silenced. 

And the world is still burning. 

* * *

Don't Cry (Alt. Lyrics) -- Guns N' Roses 

If we could see tomorrow  
What of your plans  
No one can live in sorrow  
Ask all your friends  
Times that you took in stride  
They're back in demand  
I was the one who's washing  
Blood off your hands 

Don't you cry tonight  
I still love you baby  
Don't you cry tonight  
Don't you cry tonight  
There's a heaven above you, baby  
And don't you cry tonight 

I know the things you wanted  
They're not what you have  
With all the people talkin'  
It's drivin' you mad  
If I was standin' by you  
How would you feel  
Knowing your love's decided  
And all love is real  
Baby 

And don't you cry tonight  
Don't you cry tonight  
Don't you cry tonight  
There's a heaven above you, baby  
And don't you cry tonight 

I thought I could live in your world  
As years all went by  
With all the voices I've heard  
Something has died  
And when you're in need of someone  
My heart won't deny you  
So many seem so lonely  
With no one left to cry to, baby 

And don't you cry tonight  
And don't you cry tonight  
And don't you cry tonight  
There's a heaven above you, baby  
And don't you cry  
Don't you ever cry  
Don't you cry tonight  
Baby, maybe someday  
Don't you cry  
Don't you ever cry  
Don't you cry  
Tonight   
  

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Marcia Elena


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